The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (9 page)

“I want to go with you, to help free them. I want to make it stop–the Keltar, the Prophet–” Lyall and Alondo were looking at each other with amused expressions.
“You’re
making fun of me
.”

Lyall’s face straightened. “No, no, we’re not. Look, Shann, what we are proposing to do is highly dangerous. There’s a good chance we won’t succeed.”

“Shann, think about this.” It was Alondo. “We can arrange to look after you, and return you home after the hue and cry has died down. You shouldn’t risk your life any further.”

Her slight frame and delicate face were resolute. “No. I’ve decided;
I’m coming with
you.”

Lyall’s blue eyes were looking directly into hers, as if locked in a battle of wills. After a moment, his shoulders slumped. “Well…we’ll talk about it.”

That night she dreamed of flying, soaring above Gort. The desert fortress reared up towards her, soaked in Ail-Mazzoth`s crimson light. Far below her parents stood with their backs to her. She cried out and her father turned, but it was no longer her father. It was a tall man with sandy hair and diamond blue eyes. She heard him speak.

“I can make it stop, Shann.”

<><><><><>

Chapter 5

Alondo regarded the morgren in its pen with a dubious expression. Morgren were without doubt the ugliest creatures he knew. Of course, one could almost deal with that–if it were not for the smell. Fudoro, who was in charge of the stables here in Lind, insisted that you got used to it after a while, but Alondo seriously doubted that.

The morgren stamped its splayed feet and snorted from its single hairy nostril as if affronted. A few specks of slobber hit Alondo`s coat, causing him to step back out of range. The creature appraised him with its rheumy eyes and apparently satisfied, resumed munching on a bale of kalash.

Morgren were considerably slower than graylesh and had none of the latter’s grace of movement. They were stubborn and ill-tempered. But they could survive in arid conditions long after a graylesh`s bones would have been picked clean. Morgren had been known to go fifteen days in the desert without water. So there really was no option. He was purchasing this malodorous beast whether either of them liked it or not.

“How much?” he heard himself ask.

Fudoro ran a hand through his thinning hair. “One fourth…each.”

Alondo’s eyes widened. “One fourth of an astria? That seems a lot.”

The stableman shrugged. “Times are hard, friend. Everything is in short supply. The Prophet’s servants cut the fat and leave nothing but bone…Tell you what; I’ll throw in a pack saddle, bells if you need ’em and a full load of kalash for each animal, at no extra cost.”

Alondo nodded agreement grudgingly and doled out payment.

Fudoro`s palm closed around the coins. “Will you wait while I outfit them for you or will you return?”

“We’ll wait.”

Fudoro turned and headed towards the back, casting a glance at the hooded figure in the corner. Shann looked as if she were trying to appear unobtrusive. Still, Alondo was starting to feel glad that she had agreed to come along. He had set out with five silver astrias this morning, and it was going down fast. At least she would be able to testify that he hadn’t frittered it away swigging horge at every inn along the way.

Although he had known her for less than three days, Alondo found himself growing profoundly concerned for the slender, frail looking girl. Driven from her home; pursued by soldiers; taken in by strangers; and now on top of everything else, Lyall claiming they could solve the problems of the entire world, when the poor waif scarcely knew how to cope with her own.

Last night she had once again avowed her determination to join them on their fool’s mission.
A mission that will most likely end in all our deaths. What was Lyall thinking?
Alondo almost wished he had left her there at the bottom of that crate of stinking moba root. She would likely have lived longer.

Fudoro had returned. The morgren were out of their pens and the stableman was making final adjustments to saddle packs. Alondo thanked him and took the reins of one animal, motioning for Shann to take the other.

Outside, he turned to her. “I have to meet with someone briefly. Would you mind looking after the morgren and the rest of our things for a bit? I won’t be long.”

Shann threw her hood back. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to find an inn, aren’t you?”

Alondo smiled enigmatically. “Not this time.”

~

The eastern canton. Home to the poor and destitute of the town of Lind. A place of worn out rags and broken dreams, where squat wooden shacks sat cowering like frightened children. Alondo, maker of music, bringer of joy, felt totally out of place in this blighted neighbourhood. Old and young alike watched his passing from hollow doorways and through hollow eyes.
This is what must change. No-one should be forced to live like this.

He came to a ramshackle hut and ducked at the low entranceway. An old man with white bones jutting out beneath desiccated skin sat on a stool next to an unlit fireplace. His eyes were bright but unfocused.

Alondo walked up and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Hello, Ennas.”

The man raised his own hand, and placed it over the hand of his visitor. His voice shook slightly. “Alondo. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me. How are you keeping?”

“I am just fine. Malan is not back from the fields yet. How is Hedda?”

“Oh, mother is still her cheery self.” Alondo pulled up a crudely fashioned stool. The wooden floor of the shack was swept clean. There was an old chest in one corner and two rough pallets in the back, but it was otherwise bare.

 
“It’s kind of you to visit an old blind man. Malan will be sad to have missed you. He often speaks of you and Lyall. Are you two still together?”

“We stay in touch, yes.” Alondo looked down at his hands, feeling a mixture of anguish and guilt. Ennas had lost two sons at the revolt in Persillan some ten turns ago. Malan, his third son, had melted away in the ensuing confusion, along with Lyall and himself. When Ennas’ wife died a turn later, his last surviving son had taken him in. It was clear that times had been hard for them in the intervening years.

“Ennas, I have a confession to make. I came to ask if you know anything about what’s happening in Corte.”

“You mean the incident with the Keltar?”

“So Malan told you about it?”

The old man made a harrumphing sound. “The talk among the field workers is of little else. The Prophet’s soldiers left that night, but the following morning two more companies arrived and began shoving people around. Word is that they have a local innkeeper under arrest and are interrogating him for information about a girl that worked there.”

Alondo’s mind was working furiously as he absorbed the news.
This is bad. If Shann’s
former employer talks, then the troops will be here next. In fact, they may even be on their way right now.

Alondo took the old man’s wrinkled hand in his own. The skin felt leathery. “Ennas I’m sorry, I have to leave. I have someone waiting for me. Will you be all right?”

“Don’t worry about me. Malan will be home soon. Are you sure you can’t stay?”

“Tell Malan I have to go away for a while, but I will see you both when I return.” He paused, then reaching into his coin purse, took out half an astria and placed it firmly in Ennas’ palm, closing the man’s gaunt fingers around it. Whatever Lyall thought of his other purchases, Alondo was certain he would approve of this one.

He stood up and turned to go. As he did so, the old man spoke. “The man in Corte, the man who fought a Keltar and tried to free the ‘tributes’?” Ennas’ blind eyes seemed to see farther than any sighted person. “I’d like to meet him one day.”

~

Lyall sat thoughtfully for a moment in the farmhouse’s comfortable sitting room, weighing consequences. Then he met Alondo’s questioning gaze. “We have to leave, now.”

“You mean, for Gort?”

Lyall nodded.

“Ennas was all fired up by what happened in Corte. I imagine a lot of people are. I wonder what he would say if he knew it was you.” Alondo paused. “You know, Malan would have come with us without hesitation if you had asked him.”

“I know. But if anything were to happen to Ennas` last son, how could I look the old man in the face?” Lyall`s expression was dark.

“What happened at Persillan was not your fault, you know.”

“I know.”

There was a silence between both men, charged with the memory of loss
. A complex of oddly shaped white buildings. People in white clothing running in all directions. The discovery of a large bronze coloured globe, with strange protuberances. An incandescent white light. Then death, destruction, the broken and charred bodies of comrades…

It was Alondo who finally broke the mood. “What are we going to do about Shann?”

“She’s coming with us. I had considered trying to persuade her to stay with Hedda or Moina, but that would put everyone at risk. We have no choice.”

“But she’s little more than a child, Lyall. Besides, where we’re going isn’t safe.”

“Safer than here in a little while, I think. You were right not to tell her about the situation at her home. There’s nothing she could do.”

Alondo had a faraway look as he stared out of the window. “I know she suspects something. She asked why I was being so quiet on the way back from Lind.” He smiled. “You know I’ve never been very good at hiding my feelings.”

“She probably thinks you’re just worried about our mission.” He rose from his stool, walked over to Alondo, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shann is tougher than she looks. Besides, I can teach her to defend herself. We will both look after her. She will be fine.”

Sure. Just like those poor devils at Persillan.

Lyall went to the door and called out, “Shann.”

A moment later, she stood at the doorway dressed in farm worker’s coveralls. Her face was flushed. She had been helping Moina feed and water the animals. “Yes Lyall?”

Lyall smiled. “We’re headed for Gort.”

 
“When?” She asked.

“Right now.”

She wiped her hands down her front and headed for the stairs. “I’ll get my things.”

~

Shann sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the fire as it tapered and danced, sparks flying upwards to merge with Ail-Mazzoth`s ember glow. The flames made a pleasant crackling sound.

Only a few hours before, they had said their goodbyes at the farmhouse. The little party assembled in the yard as clouds were gathering, partially obscuring the late afternoon suns. The morgren were stamping their feet as if they were impatient to be underway. Hedda and Moina kissed the two men and the girl. Shann was surprised to see Hedda hug Alondo as if she would not let go.

Moina was fussing as usual. Lyall received the lecture patiently. “Mind you take care of that bandage now. I won’t be there to patch you up. And take good care of the girl. I expect to see all of you back here safe.”

Lyall forced himself to smile at his aunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon enough.”

Shann addressed Hedda. “Please as soon as you can, could you get word to the Wayfarer in Corte? Tell Gallar and Poltann that I am all right, and that they should not worry.”

Hedda stroked Shann’s cheek. “Don’t worry child; I have not forgotten.”

They said final farewells. Then, with Lyall and Alondo leading the two beasts of burden, the little procession headed for the road that would take them south.

Shann took a last look back over her shoulder at the two women who were watching them depart in silence.
Will I ever see them again?

A log within the fire made a snapping sound. Lyall was standing next to her, poking the fire with a stick, provoking it. The firelight cast a long shadow from his tall form.